


What Keeps You Going

by MermaidMarie



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e05 Escape From the Happy Place, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 16:10:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18347096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidMarie/pseuds/MermaidMarie
Summary: Following the events of 4x05, in which Quentin and Eliot separately try to keep moving forward. (and, ultimately, reunite)





	What Keeps You Going

**Author's Note:**

> I just kind of wrote this to make myself feel better. It's not, like, beta-read or anything, but honestly? Neither is literally anything else I've written. How do you even arrange beta readers? Is that really a thing? I'm not convinced. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think, I hope I could make someone else feel better, too. Our boys have been having a hard time lately.

Quentin could barely look at another book, barely keep his eyes on a page. He was wearing thin. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

_Find a way to save Eliot._

But there were no guarantees. Making a deal with the Monster was shaky at best. The Monster was unpredictable, unreliable. He was vindictive and impulsive. There was no way to make sure he’d give Eliot back. Quentin had to walk on eggshells, and it still might not be enough.

Quentin’s leverage was weak. The Monster held the cards. All Quentin could do was hope that the Monster’s strange fixation with him would be enough to give them enough time.

He tried to keep his focus on that moment. The moment he realized Eliot was alive. The moment Eliot’s eyes were his own again, and they were pleading Quentin to understand, to see him, to believe him.

He’d really believed that Eliot was dead. He’d had no reason to doubt the Monster. _Your friend Eliot is dead._ Quentin couldn’t even cry. He just felt empty. His hope had been fragile enough, and the Monster had shattered it.

But _god,_ he could’ve gotten Eliot killed. He almost had.

Quentin couldn’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened. They’d gotten so close to losing Eliot forever. Eliot could’ve been dead, or trapped in Blackspire forever with that _thing_. If the timing of that moment had just been one second off, Quentin would’ve _lost_ Eliot.

It gave Quentin a new understanding of why Eliot had shot the Monster in the first place. Because Quentin couldn’t stand the idea of Eliot being stuck in that prison with the Monster forever. He remembered the look on Eliot’s face when he’d announced he was staying in the castle, and now, he understood.

He’d die before he’d let that happen to Eliot.

_I’m alive in here._

Quentin couldn’t let that feeling slip away. The strength he’d gotten, the resolve, the hope. It was what was keeping him going.

But every day, it got a little harder.

Because it had just been that one moment. The short, fleeting moment. Quentin had barely registered it as it was happening. He hadn’t believed it. _Until._

_Fifty years. Who gets proof of concept like that?_

And then, in that moment, it was _Eliot_ again. It was Eliot’s face, Eliot’s eyes, Eliot’s voice. He was _there._

He was within reach, for a few short seconds. Painfully, excruciatingly short seconds. But it had been enough, enough to give Quentin something to keep him going. Enough to remind him what he was fighting for.

But since then, it had been harder to look at the Monster, knowing that Eliot was still alive in there somewhere. It was torture to have to be around this _thing_ that wasn’t Eliot.

Quentin could feel the Monster’s breath on his neck, the Monster’s hand on his chest. It made his skin crawl. He couldn’t stand it. That was really one of the worst parts—because it was _Eliot’s_ body. Quentin didn’t want to shrink away from those hands he knew so well. He didn’t want his feelings about Eliot’s body to be warped by the Monster.

Every day he spent with the Monster made it harder. He had to keep his focus on that moment, that short, life-shattering moment, because every minute that passed now made Eliot seem farther and farther away.

And Quentin had to find a way to bring him back.

 ---

Eliot _had_ to believe that Quentin understood. That Quentin was coming for him. That he wouldn’t be trapped in his own mind forever, with only the memories of the people he loves. It was a small comfort to be able to conjure the memory versions of Margo and Q, but sometimes it just made the whole thing hurt more.

There was only so much he could do beyond wait. He was learning what he could about the Monster, but he had no way of knowing he’d be able to get the information out to his friends anyway. He didn’t like feeling helpless like this.

Eliot closed his eyes again. He pictured Quentin’s face, for that one moment he’d had control again.

It could have been anyone, out there when he’d gotten control. He’d had no way of knowing. He couldn’t even be sure one of his friends would be there to get the message.

But of everyone it could’ve been, out of everyone he could’ve had those few seconds with, it had been _Q._

Eliot tried to conjure the feeling, that relief, that hope, that joy. The moment where he’d finally been in his body again, back in the world, and Quentin, the _real_ flesh and blood _Quentin_ , had been _right there_ in front of him. Whenever he started to think about giving up, he had to conjure that moment, those feelings.

The way Q had said his name. The way Q had looked at him.

It kept him going. It was just getting harder to cling to.

Because there was a part of it that was just so deeply painful, too. Quentin hadn’t believed him at first. Eliot didn’t know how much time had passed out there, how much time his body had been possessed by the Monster, but clearly it had been enough that Q didn’t recognize him.

How much time had Quentin spent with the Monster, looking like Eliot? Had it been enough time that Quentin believed that Eliot was gone for good? Had it been enough time that Quentin only saw the Monster now, when he looked at Eliot’s face?

Eliot wasn’t sure he wanted to know. The important thing was that Quentin had seen him before he’d lost control again.

He just hoped that Quentin had gotten the rest of the message. The rest of what he was trying to say.

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for running away from what we had. I’m sorry for letting you believe that it didn’t mean as much to me as it meant to you. Ask me again when I get out of here._

 ---

_The seconds felt long. Quentin ran to where Eliot had fallen. For a moment, nothing else existed. Quentin held his breath._

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_Fuck._

_Quentin didn’t know how long it was supposed to take. The Monster had been expelled. Eliot’s body was his own again. If Eliot was even there anymore. He hesitantly put two fingers against Eliot’s wrist. The pulse was there, if a little weak._

_“Come on,” Quentin said under his breath. “Wake up. Wake up. You have to be okay.”_

_Everything he’d done, everything he’d gone through, it had been for this. This moment._

_“El,” Quentin pleaded, his voice finally breaking._

_This couldn’t all have been for nothing. They couldn’t have come this far, only to have Eliot be gone_ now. _The story couldn’t go like this._

_His hand hovered near Eliot’s cheek. He was hesitant to touch Eliot, after all this time._

_Quentin couldn’t focus on anything else. The world could’ve been falling apart around him and he wouldn’t hear it. Nothing else existed. Not yet. It was just Quentin and Eliot and the weight of this moment._

_He leaned closer, still not quite letting his hand touch Eliot’s face. “Fifty years, El. Fifty years, and I had to watch you die. I had to bury you alone,” he murmured. “Tell me it wasn’t all for nothing.”_

_A soft sigh escaped Eliot’s lips and his eyelids fluttered._

_“Eliot?” Quentin breathed._

_“Q,” came the weak response._

_Relief flooded Quentin’s chest. Eliot was alive, he was here. Everything else, whatever fucking disaster they had coming up next, it could all wait. Quentin needed this. He needed the moment his best friend came back to him._

_Eliot managed to open his eyes, a pure, tired smile spreading across his face. He reached up, resting a hand on the side of Quentin’s neck. “You cut your hair.”_

_Quentin laughed a little. It was okay, it was all going to be okay. He put his hand over Eliot’s, holding it against his neck, feeling warm and light for the first time in what felt like forever. “Yours has gotten pretty long,” he said._

_“Mm.” Eliot rubbed his thumb against Quentin’s jawline. “You’ll have to excuse me, I haven’t been able to get to a barber. I’ve been, well, let’s say preoccupied.”_

_Quentin put his other hand against Eliot’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. He could feel his eyes beginning to prick with tears, like all the emotions he’d refused to feel were about to spill out at once. Here he was. Here was Eliot._

_It occurred to him that he’d really, truly believed, deep down, that he’d never see Eliot again._

_Eliot started to lean up, struggling to prop himself up on his free arm._

_“Oh, hey, hey, wait,” Quentin said softly. “Be careful, we haven’t—we have to make sure you’re, you know, okay. Or—or not injured. I don't know if okay is exactly, I don't know, the right word here... El, wait, hold on.”_

_“Oh, Jesus, Quentin. Will you just—” Eliot started, with an exasperated chuckle. “Q, will you please just—”_

_He cut off abruptly, pulling Quentin towards him as he leaned forward, pressing his lips against Quentin’s._

_Quentin was so taken aback that he froze for a moment, just long enough for Eliot to pull back._

_“I’m sorry,” Eliot said quietly, a small, sheepish smile on his face. “I understand if you need... I didn’t mean to—”_

_Quentin pulled himself back together, interrupting Eliot with a desperate kiss. A few tears fell as he closed his eyes. He felt Eliot smile into the kiss as he returned it._

_Eliot had been the first person he’d seen when he learned magic was real. The first friend he’d made at Brakebills. One of the only people he'd ever felt really comfortable around. They’d been through so much together since then. They’d lived a lifetime. They’d fallen in love. They’d grown old. They’d discovered the beauty of all life._

_Quentin could hardly believe how lucky he was, that they could have the chance to do it all over again._


End file.
